


the vigil

by epsiloneridani



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Post Order 66, Rebels era, mentions of injury, no accelerated aging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29014848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsiloneridani/pseuds/epsiloneridani
Summary: They brought Cody home. And now, all they can do is wait.And now, all they can do is hope.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, No Romantic Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi & CT-7567 | Rex
Comments: 10
Kudos: 135





	the vigil

“How long now?”

Rex didn’t answer him – not that Obi-Wan expected him to. The captain was slumped forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging low. His hair fell, frazzled, in haphazard little waves. It was so different from how he’d kept it during the war: shaved close.

“I don’t know,” Rex answered at last. His voice was thick with exhaustion. “What’s the Force telling you?”

Obi-Wan let his senses sweep over their surroundings. The medical bay on Chopper Base wasn’t much to speak of, if you compared it to the facility that had been on the _Negotiator_ , but when held up to the options available to some of the other rebel cells they’d worked with before, it was practically state-of-the-art. There were several rooms branching off the entryway; mostly those were for reserved for minor injuries: blaster burns and abrasions and concussions. They were sparsely populated. In the Force, the signatures of their occupants felt like tiny sparks.

Beyond them was a compact series of makeshift operating theaters, each of them staffed by a droid and a few living attendants (quiet focus, courageous calm). And past that, nestled at the very edge, was the room most of the rebels aptly, if not tactfully, referred to as Death’s Corner.

It was reserved for only the most grievously injured: the individuals the medics comforted and consoled but no one expected to survive. Obi-Wan had sat with more than one of them, pressing a gentle palm to their foreheads and murmuring _It’s all right. Just breathe. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me_. The mantra soothed them; the Jedi were legends now, ghosts, and so even teetering as the mortally wounded were on the precipice between life and death, they still seemed to regard his presence as some kind of honor. They glowed like beacons; they hummed like stars. Their light rose.

And their chests fell.

Right now, Death’s Corner was empty, save one soul.

“General?”

The title jolted him. So did the touch to his arm. Obi-Wan stared at the hand Rex had set atop his wrist. “I’m all right,” Obi-Wan said, more wearily than he meant to, and pulled his senses back before they could brush against the signature of that particular presence. The Force moved in roiling waves there, turbulent and unpredictable. He didn’t want to reach into the darkness.

He didn’t want to know if there wasn’t any light.

Rex made a noise that was somewhere between a huff of despair and a derisive snort. “Sure, General.”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore, you know.” Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at him. “We share the same rank.”

Not by choice, of course; he’d tried to tell Ahsoka that he didn’t need a rank, didn’t want one, and had been soundly ignored. She’d insisted, and with the way her eyes had gleamed, still shining from her tears, he hadn’t had the heart to refuse.

Rex rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he repeated, in the same unimpressed tone, and drew his hand back. He pushed himself to stand, rolling his neck. It cracked – unsettlingly loud in the silence.

Obi-Wan suppressed a flinch. When Rex didn’t take a seat again, he tilted his head meaningfully. “Surely you’re not going to pace again.”

“I wasn’t pacing before,” Rex countered, and pulled one arm diagonally across his chest, tucking it in the crook of his bent elbow and tugging it toward his body. He held it for a moment, then switched to the other arm and did the same. Obi-Wan had seen him complete the stretch many times since they’d taken their seats hours ago. It was his routine; it kept him calm. It kept him moving. And it was much more tolerable than his pacing.

“You were,” Obi-Wan said, as unconcernedly as he could. It felt wrong to banter. It felt wrong to speak. Not when they didn’t know. If he thought about it for too long, the uncertainty welled up and suffocated him.

Rex blew out a breath. His shoulders rolled forward; the muscles in his neck strung taut. “Maybe,” he allowed. His voice was tight. He glanced at the door again. His lower lip trembled. He stood there for a moment, considering it as he would an enemy, or an obstacle. For a second Obi-Wan was sure he’d charge through it, tearing his way down the hall until he made it to Death’s Corner and found the surgeon and demanded news. It coiled in him like a spring, a fear-ridden impulse to know – now.

As quickly as the thought seized him, it was gone. All at once, Rex’s shoulders slumped. He took his seat again. His head fell into his hands. He dragged his fingers through his hair.

“He’ll be okay,” Rex croaked, so low Obi-Wan could barely hear him. “He’s gonna be fine.”

Quietly, as the hours dragged on, Obi-Wan wondered if he should say the same. deserved that reassurance, after all he’d been through. He deserved to have his closest brother returned to him. To have Cody safe at his side. He’d been forced to fight his first war and chosen to fight his second, and both had taken their toll. He’d loved – and, over and over, he’d lost. If there was any justice in the universe at all, he should, after all of that, get to have just one person precious to him back.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to echo it, and the words died on his lips. His throat was dry. He remembered, even all these years later, the hatred burning in Anakin’s eyes, and the agony that had cut through his own chest as surely as a blade. It had been dulled by Tatooine, but it had never gone away. He reached into the Force, and he ached for the stars that were gone from it.

He didn’t know if Cody was one of them. He didn’t want to.

“How long?” Obi-Wan asked, again.

And again, Rex returned, “I don’t know.” But this time it was accompanied by a helpless little chuff. It wasn’t fond exasperation, not quite, though it was close enough that Obi-Wan could feel it ripple around him like soft rain.

Obi-Wan found the strength to move to his side. He pressed a hand to his shoulder and tried to ground him the same way he’d once grounded Waxer, and Boil, and all the rest. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “Whatever happens – however he is – it’s going to be all right.”

Rex lifted his head to meet his gaze. His eyes were bloodshot. “Do you really believe that?”

Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder. “I do,” he said. “I promise.”

Rex appraised him silently.

For all of his time on Tatooine, Obi-Wan had had only belief. Luke had been his salvation. He’d tethered himself to that purpose: watching over Anakin’s son the way he’d failed to watch over Anakin himself. Then fate had flung that away. Luke had fled Tatooine in a furious flurry and thrown himself into the Rebellion.

And Obi-Wan had followed.

“We have only our hope,” Obi-Wan whispered. He spread his senses in the Force once more, letting them cascade across the medical bay. He felt the quiet, he felt the calm, and finally, he felt that ragged rift. This time, he pressed toward it. The shadows surged like a storm; he let them fall over him. Fear welled, but it wasn’t his own. Obi-Wan pulled it in, and allowed it to pass through.

At the maelstrom’s center he saw it: the faintest gleam, burning like a star. He couldn’t reach it – couldn’t reach him.

But he could reach out.

“I’m here, Cody,” Obi-Wan murmured. “It’s all right. You’re home.”

And he held out his hope.


End file.
